


(You can be) The story to my melody

by thedreamingowl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ballerino Bucky Barnes, F/M, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, pianist steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 06:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9060868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedreamingowl/pseuds/thedreamingowl
Summary: Steve Rogers is an accompanist, Bucky Barnes is a ballet dancer, Sam Wilson just proposed to Natasha Romanoff and shenanigans ensue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift for kellysmarvelsanta on Tumblr!  
> Unbetaed, so feel free to point out any mistakes

Steve smiled softly as he pressed the last notes of the piece he was playing, hands stilling on the piano. _His_ piece, the composition he had spent the last few months working on, perfecting every second so it sounded exactly as he wanted it to.

Born with a middle ear malformation, he had spent the first few years of his life being hard of hearing until his corrective surgery. He still remembered the first few notes the doctor had played afterwards to check his hearing- the music had stolen his breath away and he had been fascinated with the piano since that moment.

He sometimes thought he was always destined to play this particular instrument- he had been small and frail during childhood, despite the most expensive treatment money could buy, but his fingers were long and slim. Pianists’ fingers, his mother used to say fondly.

“That sounds pretty amazing, Steve. Is it an original piece?”

Steve looked up from where he was sitting in front of the piano in the previously unoccupied dance studio to see his friend and co-worker Bucky Barnes leaning casually against the doorway with his arms crossed. The man looked effortlessly flawless, in a sleeveless grey hoodie and black sweatpants, shoulder-length brown hair tied back in a bun. His most striking feature, however was his left arm, which was made of a sleek shiny metal.

Steve nodded. “It’s still a work in progress though,” he said, suddenly unsure, fidgeting with the music sheets in front of him. “I still have a lot more work to do.”

“You really should stop selling yourself short,” Bucky teased, walking into the room to lean against the piano. “Are we going to need to have that whole conversation about confidence and self-assurance again?”

Steve was a dance accompanist at the Romanova Ballet School, owned by Natasha Romanoff, a Russian woman who was as tiny as he was, but definitely a lot deadlier. She preferred having live music during the dance classes instead of recordings, saying it was a lot more “alive”.

Bucky was a dance instructor at the same school and, over the two years of Steve’s employment, he had been given said “confidence and self-assurance” conversation a number of times, the very first of which had been during his audition in front of both Bucky and Natasha.

“Sorry,” Steve smiled at him, earning himself an exasperated eyebrow raise. “I can’t help it.”

“If I can do it, so can you,” Bucky grinned. “You just don’t want to.”

Steve remembered the first time he’d seen Bucky, wearing a tank top which hid none of the scars on his shoulder where metal met skin without a second thought. He had been a primo ballerino once, but losing his arm to cancer had closed a lot of avenues for him given the strict standards set by ballet companies when it came to casting someone for their roles, despite the dexterity of the arm, which Bucky could control as well as his flesh one. As Bucky often joked, there weren’t a lot of characters with metal arms, so he had had to find something else. At twenty-six, he was one of the most senior dance instructors at the school and Natasha’s right hand and best friend.

“I’m getting there, though,” Steve offered truthfully, making Bucky smile proudly and wipe an imaginary tear.  Two years earlier, he would have listened quietly to whatever Bucky had had to say, but now he was standing up for himself and that in itself seemed like an achievement to him.

“Do you think you can have the piece ready in a month or two? I’d love to have the advanced students dance to it for the spring showcase,” Bucky said thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against the piano. “The music sounds fantastic, in a haunting way, which would bring out the best in them if choreographed properly but also get you a lot of exposure. Who knows” he added, tone teasing. “Maybe someday I’ll have front seats to one of your concerts and you’ll credit me for it.”

“I think I’ll be done in the next couple of weeks, actually,” Steve said, eyes flicking up to Bucky’s face, watching for his reaction as he went on, “but I don’t want to have the advanced students dance to it.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why not?”

Steve drew in a deep breath. “The instructors are also required to perform at the showcase. I wrote this piece for you.”

“I am flattered, but don’t be stupid, Steve,” Bucky argued, now looking shocked. “Don’t waste this on me, you’d be much better off giving it to the advanced class, you know how great Kate and America are; they’ll bring the music to life.”

“So will you,” Steve replied quietly, meeting Bucky’s grey eyes for the first time since he had walked into the room. “This is _my_ piece,” he added more stubbornly, “and I should be able to give it to whoever I want to.”

“Just think it over, please?” Bucky said after a long silence. “And tell me if you’re sure about this tomorrow.”

Steve nodded, though he knew he would not change his mind. He’d wanted to compose something for Bucky ever since the first time he had seen him dancing in an empty dance studio several months ago, body drenched in sweat as he had moved fluidly to the music, wordlessly expressing countless emotions. Since then, Steve hadn’t been able to help himself trying to catch glimpses of Bucky dancing- these were the times he seemed truly free, when he dropped the mask of self-assurance and allowed himself to _feel_. His dancing spoke of longing and regret and pain and resilience, and seeing him dance to one of his pieces would honestly make Steve feel honoured.

 

 

Steve walked into his apartment to the smell of chicken and the sound of Sam Wilson singing a Taylor Swift song loudly in the kitchen.

“Steve, that you?” his room-mate called, stopping mid-lyric.

“Yeah,” he shouted back, flopping down onto the living room couch with a groan.

“What’s going on, man? I thought you and Barnes were going to do your monthly nerd-night-slash-drink thing tonight. What happened to Star Wars?” Sam asked concernedly, joining Steve in the living room.

“We fought over who should get the piano piece,” Steve admitted, voice muffled in the cushion. “ _My_ piano piece,” he added indignantly, raising his head to look at Sam. “Which I should be perfectly free to give to anyone I want, thank you very much.”

“Steve,” Sam said hurriedly, breaking his stride before he could truly start ranting. “Any other day I’d be glad to help, but Nat’s coming over in a few minutes and I was kind of hoping we’d have the place to ourselves for a few hours.”

Sam and Natasha had been dating since almost as long as Steve had been working for her, hitting it off immediately one day when Sam had dropped by to say hi to Steve at work and met her. Sam had been completely enamoured with her and she with him, though they had asked Steve first if it would make things awkward for him to have his best friend dating his boss. He had given them his blessing- the whole thing had been very sweet.

“Sure,” Steve said grumpily, transferring his earlier grumpiness onto Sam. “Kick me out of my own house.”

“Steve,” Sam interrupted, using what Steve called his Therapist Voice- gentle, but firm. “I need you out of the house because I’m proposing to Nat.”

“Oh.” Steve felt the fight leaving his body in a swift whoosh. “That’s awesome!”

“Thanks, man,” Sam grinned goofily. “I hope she says yes.”

“She’d be stupid not to,” Steve remarked, then wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I’m always here if she says no, though.”

Right on cue, there was a knock at the door and Steve jumped off the couch, hissing at Sam to get back to the kitchen.

“Natasha,” he smiled as he opened the door to the redhead. “Don’t mind me, I was just leaving.” Steve moved aside to let her in even as stepped out but she placed a hand on his elbow to stop him.

“I heard what you said to Bucky today,” she said softly, too low for Sam to hear. “And I think you’re right. It’ll be good for him to dance to something new. Who knows, it might get the morons in those companies to get over their aesthetic sensibilities and bigotry to realise how much they lost by not giving him a chance.”

She was right, of course, and Steve knew he had to convince Bucky of that as well.

 

 

After walking for a few minutes in the crisp October air, Steve found himself standing in front of Bucky’s apartment building. Mentally rehearsing the speech he’d written on the fly for a few minutes, he strode up to Bucky’s door and knocked.

“Steve?” Bucky’s tone was questioning as he opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

 “I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Steve began. “And about your previous speeches about self-assurance. You go on and on about being confident and yet say that me giving you my piece is a waste? By doing so, you’re showing remarkably little _self-confidence_ , as well as zero respect in my _assurance_ that you’d be the best to perform to my music and,” he cut himself off, feeling like he was about to start rambling, “what I mean to say is that I am a hundred percent sure that I want you to perform to my piece, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky was looking at him soundlessly, looking a little shell-shocked.

“Can I come in?” Steve asked, shivering as a gust of wind blew. “It’s pretty cold outside.”

“Sure,” Bucky said, breaking out of his stupor and letting Steve into the warmth. As he walked in, Steve phone vibrated and he swiped at the screen only to see a string of smiley emojis from Sam.

“Also,” Steve said. “My best friend is getting married to your best friend.”

“Sam and Natasha?” Bucky asked with wide eyes, running his right hand distractedly through his hair and messing it up, though the windswept look only made him look better. “Man, this has been a weird day. Do you mind if I got back to you on the dance thing? I only want to watch Star Wars right now.”

“I’m okay with that,” Steve said, relieved that the arguing was over for the day. “As long as your answer is yes. You wouldn’t want to be on my Dark Side.”

The way Bucky’s eyes crinkled at the bad joke was totally worth making it.

 

 

The next day, Bucky got back to Steve and announced he would in fact, very _assuredly_ be dancing to Steve’s piece at the showcase and the pair began practicing earnestly. Steve recorded himself playing the piano in case Bucky wanted to practice on his own, but the other man said he preferred having Steve play for him to get a better feel for the music.

Seeing his music being translated to sautés and ronds de jambe was, as Steve had suspected, a real treat. Every move he made, no matter how subtle, seemed to breathe life into the melody. It was beautiful to see a story being born out of the notes, a tale of loss and rebirth, of despair and hope, and Steve was gladder every day for having Bucky on board.

In fact, both of them were more usually together than not, with practicing and helping their friends organise their upcoming wedding, leading to them eventually finding themselves at a cake tasting.

“Why are we here again?” Steve asked Bucky under his breath, after checking to see if Sam and Natasha were still absorbed in their passionate argument about balancing the pros and cons of pink velvet and lemon raspberry meringue.

“I have no idea,” Bucky hissed back. “Why can’t they just go for chocolate like normal people?”

“Because Sam’s a groomzilla, that’s why,” Steve answered softly, getting Bucky to let out a bark of laughter, which he tried unsuccessfully to stifle. Immediately, the fiancés turned to them in perfect synchronisation.

“What are you laughing at?” Natasha asked with narrowed eyes, as Sam frowned behind her.

“Steve was just telling me about the latest Star Trek trailer,” Bucky answered quickly, getting up and wrapping a hand around Steve’s wrist to get him to stand up as well. “In fact we were just leaving to get to somewhere with internet connection,” he continued. “We’ll see you guys around.” With that, he turned around and _marched_ to the exit, dragging Steve with him while the latter just managed to wave goodbye to the other two and grab his coat.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he laughed at Bucky as they stepped outside, noting it was already dark. “They were looking at us like we’d lost our damn minds.”

“Oh, did you want to stay and taste more cakes?” Bucky asked teasingly. “Sausage and peanut flavoured, maybe?”

“I’m allergic to peanuts, I’ll have you know,” Steve retorted with as much dignity as he could muster. “I was much fonder of the kale and almond cake. Healthy, you know.”

“Really? Mine was jalapeño and chestnut.”

“Please, the wasabi and 7-up cake was the best of all.”

“Whatever happened to healthy eating, Rogers?” Bucky enquired, mock seriously. “I am appalled.”

Steve laughed so loudly he lost his balance and would have fallen off the sidewalk onto the road if not for Bucky quickly grasping his wrist and pulling him close.

“You need to be more careful,” Bucky said gruffly, making no move to let go, and Steve was temporarily speechless. This close, he could probably count each individual eyelash on Bucky’s face and he saw a little freckle above his left eyebrow which he’d never noticed before. There was a strange tension in the air, and Steve’s skin was tingling where Bucky was still holding him.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he managed, swallowing as Bucky let go. His heart was thundering in his chest and his ears were buzzing. Adrenaline, it was probably the adrenaline.

 

 

“Steve! My friend, my brother, my best man Steve!” Sam wailed and Steve almost jumped off his bed out of shock as Sam stormed into his room, flopping down beside him on Steve’s bed as the shorter man looked on with concern, putting down his phone.

“What’s going on, Sam?” he asked worriedly. This was very out of character for Sam, who was the most well-adjusted person Steve knew.

“Natasha wants a Christmas wedding instead of a May one, is what’s going on. There are six weeks left for Christmas, Steve.” Sam was talking quickly, a slightly crazed look in his eyes. “My tux is ready but the catering and flowers and party favours won’t be and on top of that the DJ said he wouldn’t be free and the venue is already booked for that date. This is going to be a disaster, Steve!” He shouted the last part, flinging Steve’s pillow across the room and knocking a book off its shelf.

Steve winced. If this was what weddings did to good people, he wasn’t sure he wanted that for himself.

“Sam,” he said soothingly, trying to quickly come up with a solution. “Just have a smaller wedding with the people you really care about and who care about you. I’m sure Natasha won’t mind if we went down to Clint’s farm, the place is gorgeous and it won’t snow there. As for the food, isn’t his wife Laura a chef? If all of us work together, we’ll come up with something.”

“Why are you so good to me, Steve?” Sam actually started crying. “You’re the best friend a man could get, honestly. I’ll go call Clint right away. As soon as I stop crying, I mean.”

“Glad to help,” Steve said cautiously, patting Sam on the back. He was out of his depth here.

After Sam had left, Steve picked up the phone and found he had forgotten to hang up.

“How much of that did you hear?” he asked and was answered with a loud snort and what sounded like someone choking of laughter.

“All of it,” Bucky sniggered in between laughs. “Every word of it. And I recorded everything.”

“Are we still meeting up for dinner tomorrow?” Steve asked after it no longer sounded like Bucky was dying of laughter.

“It’s a date, Rogers,” Bucky said, and Steve could hear the smile in his voice. It did funny things to his stomach. Not butterflies, more like a whole zoo.

 

 

Steve searched for Bucky in the dimly lit restaurant. It was a tasteful, though not overpriced place and, having been there a couple of times before, Steve knew the food was good. He had been glad when Bucky had suggested the place for their date. Date. The word still sent a thrill up Steve’s spine and that, paired with the sight of Bucky waving at him from a booth, made his face split into a wide smile.

“You clean up good, Steve,” Bucky said, lips pulled up in a half smile, and Steve looked down self-consciously at his clothes. He was looking pretty good, he supposed, in the casual khaki pants and white button down. He had even made the effort of brushing his short blond hair.

“So do you,” Steve grinned, moving in to sit beside him and meaning every word of it. Bucky’s hair was hanging in waves around his face, and he was wearing a dark blue shirt and black jeans which just served to show how muscular he was.

“I always look good,” the other man laughed.

“So much confidence.”

“ _And_ self-assurance.”

They were still smiling stupidly at each other when the waitress, a pretty girl by whose name-tag read Kamala, walked up to their table.

“Hello, gentlemen,” she said with a bright smile and Steve decided he liked her. “I’ll be your server for the night. Are you ready to order or do you need a few minutes? Both of you are totally the cutest couple in here tonight, by the way.”

Laughing in surprise at her forwardness, Steve ordered a Grilled Steak while Bucky got a Meat Lasagne.

“So, Sam’s driving you up the wall?” Bucky asked, once she had left.

“You can’t imagine,” Steve groaned, and Bucky rubbed his shoulder in sympathy. “How’s Natasha holding up?”

“Thankfully well,” Bucky responded. “Though I think Sam’s irritability is rubbing off on her. I’ll be glad when this is all over, let me tell you.”

The rest of their conversation was light and joking, and it didn’t seem much different from their usual banter, though Steve found that he had unconsciously moved closer to Bucky so that the latter was casually resting his hand on his thigh. There was a magnetic attraction between both of them, such that even the lull in conversation when the food arrived felt comfortable instead of awkward.

In many ways, they were like magnets, Steve realised. Bucky was muscular where he was slender, assertive where he was shy, unashamed about his shortcomings where Steve tried to hide his. The age old adage about opposites attracting seemed true except that, on a deeper level, with regards to all the things that mattered, they were no different at all, fitting together as naturally as two pieces of a puzzle.

As Bucky walked Steve home after dinner- both of them having split the bill and left a big tip for Kamala, earning a bear hug each- the mood seemed to change, growing more intimate.

“Do we tell Sam and Nat about this?” Steve asked, as they reached his building, secretly wishing the walk was longer.

“I think we should spare Sam the heart attack until after the wedding,” Bucky replied with an amused smirk.

“You’re right. I guess I’ll see you later, then.” Steve shuffled on the spot, unwilling for Bucky to leave just yet.

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky blurted out and there was a light dusting of pink of his cheeks that Steve found endearing as he nodded.

Bucky moved closer to him, one hand reaching to carefully cup his cheek as he leaned down. The last thing Steve saw before closing his eyes was the same little freckle. Bucky’s lips were gentle on his, just brushing softly against his. Then he tilted his head to the side to gain better access and kissed him more firmly, his free hand going to Steve’s waist to pull him closer. Steve felt like he was falling, hands reaching out to hold on to the lapels of Bucky’s coat.

As they pulled away, Steve couldn’t help feeling that if Bucky could have him feeling this way with just a kiss, he was in deeper than he though.

 

 

Time seemed to go by more quickly the closer they got to the wedding and everyone was getting more and more frazzled: Sam, because he was sure the ceremony would be a catastrophe; Natasha, because she’d had a case of cold feet and had to be soothed into calming down by Bucky; and Steve and Bucky because of trying to balance out their duties towards their friends, practicing for the upcoming showcase, and keeping their relationship secret.

Honestly, the whole situation was thrilling to Steve, the need to make-out in isolated places and going on secret dates making him feel like a giddy teenager. He was however glad when December 23rd rolled through and they left for Clint’s farm in Florida.

The place was warm and beautiful, with a rustic, homey feeling. As Steve was helping Sam unpack his suitcases, he felt his phone vibrating and looked down to see a message from Bucky: “Meet me by the tractor.”

Trying to stifle a smile, Steve made up an excuse he couldn’t remember and almost ran to the shed where the tractor was kept. He closed the door behind him and stepped cautiously into the darkness.

“Why so serious?” said a voice behind him and he jumped, swivelling around to see a grinning Bucky leaning against the wall.

Instead of answering, Steve walked up to him, throwing his arms around his neck and pulling his boyfriend- boyfriend! – down for a kiss.

“I missed you,” Bucky murmured as they pulled away, nipping softly at his lower lip.

“I missed you too,” Steve said as he hugged him, loving the feeling of Bucky’s arms wrapped around him and holding him close. “Just two more days to go.”

“Did you tell Sam I’m moving in with you after the wedding, yet?”

“Whatever happened to sparing him the heart attack?”

“I honestly don’t care anymore.”

 

 

The ceremony was simple and brief, with only close family and friends in attendance. In all, Steve knew that less than forty people had been invited and only half of those were actually there, given it was Christmas.

He thought the small size only served to make everything more intimate, more real, as Natasha walked down the makeshift aisle to where Sam was waiting for her at the altar, eyes gleaming with happy tears. As the newlyweds kissed, Steve sneaked a look towards Bucky and found the other man staring at him, a loving smile on his face that made Steve’s ears turn red.

The reception, which was held in an open field, was a whole other story, with Clint living his dreams of being a DJ by playing an eclectic mismatch of songs. Steve clapped along as a more relaxed Sam showed off his moves to the Mambo No 5 to an amused Natasha.

“Wedding’s over.” Bucky had crept up behind Steve and was now whispering in his ear. “Come dance with me.”

“I have two left feet, let me warn you,” Steve joked, though he allowed Bucky to move him closer to the small group of people.

“I’ll suffer through it.” Bucky was giggling as he twirled Steve around, almost skipping to avoid Steve stepping on his feet a couple of times.

“I meant to tell you something,” Steve said softly and Bucky raised an enquiring eyebrow. “I love you.”

Steve was convinced that nothing in the entire world could be as beautiful as Bucky’s smile as he pulled him in for a kiss in front of everyone.

“I am never getting married again,” Sam announced loudly. “I can’t believe this was happening right under my nose and I missed it.”

 


End file.
